


soon it will all be over, and buried with our past

by imadetheline



Series: Breathe In, Breathe Out [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Father-Son Relationship, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Whump, just tagging it in case, the major character death is up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: febuwhump day twelve - "who are you?"
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: Breathe In, Breathe Out [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140389
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76
Collections: Luke and Vader Bonding, febuwhump 2021





	soon it will all be over, and buried with our past

**Author's Note:**

> title from little talks by of monsters and men
> 
> also written for this prompt on tumblr:
> 
> "Hey! Random prompt idea; a beaten, bloody and bruised Luke is brought before Vader (who knows Vader is his father who doesn't know he is his son) and Vader has hated the boy, for replacing him and stuff, and when the troopers give his name he realises the boy he had hated and thought about torturing was his son, and Luke is panicking 'I took the name to honour Anakin we're not related' and Vader is calling his bluff, all while Luke is terrified of what he will do to him after he strangled Padme."
> 
> I changed it a bit but I hope you still enjoy it!
> 
> also partly inspired by a chapter of Tatooine has 13 words for that. it's an amazing fic and I highly recommend it. check it out [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185000/chapters/55497535)

Luke knows what’s going to happen to him. He’s known ever since he was young, and Ben told him that Darth Vader is his father. It’s been drilled into him: capture means death. Or worse, if they ever learn his name. But between Han and Leia, and him… Well, it hadn’t really been a choice. And he’d had his lightsaber on him, which he knows is what earned him a one-way ticket to Vader’s flagship.

Only Ben’s training is keeping him standing through the fear racing through his veins as troopers march him down the uniform grey halls. And he can’t even pull on the Force to dampen the pain in his ribs or pounding behind his eyes because of the metal Force-suppressing binders digging into his wrists with every yank of his arms by the troopers.

Distantly he knows he should be focused on how he’ll keep his name from Vader and the larger consequences of his capture. But his brain seems to have slowed, and all he can process is how annoying the trickle of blood is down his forehead from the injury beneath his hair and how he wishes he could wipe it away. And how the twinge of his broken ribs is sending pain through him with every step. And that the bruises lining his arms and legs make everything ache. It seems very unfair that things so small should bother him now, but his brain shies away from the coming conflict, narrowing his focus to the uneven inhale of air into his lungs and the heavy footsteps of the troopers on either side of him, as the halls blur past them.

And then a door is hissing open, and a flood of cold hits him. He doesn’t need the Force to know what that means. His brain clicks into overdrive, screaming at him, a terrible ringing panic in his ears. Suddenly and desperately, he tries to wrest his arms away from gloved hands, digging his heels into the polished black floor. But to no avail. Luke catches a glimpse of a dark room with cavernous ceilings before his resistance earns him a punch to the gut, and he doubles over, gasping for his lost air. Another well-placed blow to the back of his legs sends him to his knees with a thud. The pain sings throughout his body at the impact, and he sucks in another uneven inhale. The clang of armored footsteps echo as the troopers leave, the door hissing shut behind them, and the chilling rasp of a respirator takes its place.

Luke’s heart freezes in his chest, and he clenches his eyes shut, frozen in the humiliating position as he pulls his shields tighter, a mantra of _he can’t know_ running through his mind. He doesn’t dare think about what this man, his- his--the word catches, and he almost chokes on a sob--will do if he discovers who Luke is.

“So-” Luke suppresses a shiver at the single word and feels his body tense with terror at the hiss. “Obi-wan gave you this.” He doesn’t even have to look to know Vader is holding Luke’s lightsaber. Or well, Vader’s own lightsaber he supposes numbly. He knows his terror is seeping through his shields, tainting the Force, even if he can’t sense it. But he doesn’t answer the statement, knows Vader wasn’t asking.

“He thought he could train _you_ -” the sneering disdain is evident even through the vocoder, “to do what he could not.” There’s a heavy pause, the respirator sparking fear with every rasp, and then the temperature plummets even more. Luke shivers and drops his head even further, looking at the blood staining his hands and dripping down his abused wrists to land on the polished black floor. He doesn’t want to see the man in front of him when he dies.

“Why _this_ blade, boy?” Luke doesn’t need the Force to tell hatred laces every word, and if he hadn’t already known it, he’s now certain he’s never leaving this room. He hopes Han and Leia are okay, hopes he can hold onto some dignity in death as Ben had.

But every thought except terror is wiped from his mind when a bruising grip latches onto his chin and jerks it up until his gaze meets the skeletal mask inches from his face, buglike red lenses staring right through him. Luke jerks back on instinct, his ribs screaming as he tries to scramble away from the claws of death. But the grip on his chin tightens, and he feels his bones grind beneath a strength he knows could easily break his jaw. He stops struggling, breathing heavily, feeling the temperature-regulated air from the respirator on his face, his sweat and blood matted hair swaying slightly with each of Vader’s exhales.

The mask stares back at him silently, no eyes visible behind them, no human apparent beneath the machine. Luke knew there was nothing left of his--of what should have been his--father but still, to see him like this… it tears at him.

And then, the question he’s been dreading, “ _Who are you?_ ” It’s the hiss of a predator. The grip digs into his skin, pulling his chin even closer to the mask.

Luke feels like crying, like running, like screaming. But he just glares up at Vader and says nothing.

There’s no warning. Nothing to prepare him when something wraps around his limbs, freezing him in place, and then icy cold rage spears into his mind, shattering his shields like glass. Luke yells at the absolute pain that envelops his whole head at the invasion. He can’t think. The darkness is digging inwards, searching. Luke wants it gone. Please. He can’t feel his limbs, doesn’t know if he’s breathing. It doesn’t matter. He just wants the darkness out of his mind.

But it’s looking for something, rifling through memories. No! He can’t know. That’s all that matters. Luke desperately reaches for the shattered pieces of his shields, trying to piece them back together. They slip through his fingers.

He throws memories at the darkness, the knife cutting through his very core. Memories of Han and Leia laughing, memories of training with Ben on Tatooine, memories of flying. Anything but what Vader wants. Anything but his name. Anything but that.

But the darkness keeps driving inwards, tossing memories aside. It knows he’s trying to hide something, and it won’t stop until it has it, even if it kills Luke. And it is. He can feel it. Daggers of rage are cutting through his mind, pulling out memories he doesn’t even properly have. A beautiful woman holding him. Fire, endless fire. 

Something’s breaking, something vital. Luke can feel it stretching, pulled taught under his skin, some fundamental piece of him. It’s going to snap, and he’s never going to return. But maybe the pain will end then. Distantly, he recognizes the tears sliding down his cheeks as if they’re someone else’s, his grasp on life slipping.

But as everything slips from him, so too do his shields around the one piece of information he’s guarded with his life. _Skywalker._ He senses Vader’s triumph for less than a moment, and then it’s replaced by a terrifying numbness. And the darkness is gone from his mind as if it’s smoke dissipating in a breeze.

Luke comes back to himself with a sob, curling around his abused body, his head blazing with the shattered and torn pieces of himself strewn about his mind. Tears are mixing with the blood dripping from his nose, and he wishes he’d died. 

Because Vader knows. He knows, and Ben had told Luke what happened to his mother, what his father had done to her. He knows what’s in store for him at his father’s hands, knows his father can find things worse than what he’s just done.

The respirator rasps steadily on, and Luke almost chokes on his fear and the blood that’s everywhere, on his face, in his throat, staining his hands, dripping from his ears and nose. He can’t breathe for how much of him is falling apart, inside and out. That invasion of his mind, worse than any injury. His most treasured memories tainted by darkness. And all Vader does is stand there, breathing. Luke can’t look at him.

But perhaps if he stands there long enough, Luke’s body will shut down on its own. He can feel it happening. Vader had dug too deep; Luke’s still slipping towards that edge. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, the floor covered in red. Soon, soon… 

He thinks distantly that his father is surely disappointed to have such a weak son. And then he wonders why he thought that, his vision blurring. He blinks, trying to clear away the darkness; he’s never cared what his father thought before. 

But that’s a lie. A desperate lie from a dying child. He’s always cared.

A weight drops from his wrists suddenly, and the Force crashes back into him, bringing the room back into crystal focus for a single breath before the darkness creeps in again. The Force is cold--or maybe that’s his skin--and there’s a leashed storm raging feet away. _Father._ And then Luke feels it reach for him, and if he had any more energy, he would have flinched, but his eyes slip shut, and he topples forward instead. Something catches him, warmth and apology and anger--but not at Luke. It’s sorrow wrapped in the form of a person, and Luke doesn’t think, as the light slips from him, that he’s ever felt more sadness.

_I’m sorry, my son._

Luke isn’t awake to hear it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


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